Darkness II: Richter's Women
by 80sarcades
Summary: Sequel to Darkness. In hindsight, being buried alive was the least of Colonel Hogan's problems...
1. Chapter 1

**_Darkness II: Richter's Women_**  
><strong><em>by 80sarcades<em>**

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><p><em>Welcome! This is the first new story I've written in quite a while; I hope you enjoy it! It's a continuation of 'Darkness', one of my earlier tales; I highly recommend reading the original version although this could probably stand alone by itself. I'd also like to give a huge round of thanks to my big sister <strong>Missy The Least<strong> for all of her help and support!_

_A word of warning, however: the bad guy in this one is really nasty. Specifically (and considering the audience) he's less-than-caring towards the female gender. I say this only because I don't want anyone thinking I harbor such horrid concepts in my demented (yet kindly) personality. I'm a guy. I love women...specifically my wife of 16 years, Angie. What else can I say?_

_Disclaimer: Hans Richter is an original creation. With that being said, I'll take a pass on knowing him._

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><p><em>Heaven,<em> Colonel Hogan decided, _is__ being in the arms of a woman._

He gazed down into the twinkling eyes of his date and smiled. Nothing else seemed to matter, did it?

_Not even the war._

He cocked his head in puzzlement as another errant thought passed through his mind.

_What's her name?_ He mentally shrugged as he looked at the beauty in his arms.

_Does it matter?_

Instead, he merely smiled. A soft, almost hypnotic band tune caused their bodies to sway together as one as they glided around the dance floor. Oddly, neither couple noticed the other dancers nearby. In truth neither of them cared. Hogan leaned down to kiss her lips and was rewarded with the taste of warm strawberries. Combined with the woman's perfume - not to mention the press of her ample breasts against his uniform tunic - it left the officer dizzy.

With effort, he barely managed to rein in his baser instincts. Moments later his control began to crumple as a hand gently grasped the rapidly hardening symbol of his gender. A soft moan passed through his lips as her hand deftly manipulated her newfound prize. That, combined with her radiantly teasing smile, almost caused the American to forget his name.

Almost.

"So, Colonel," her soft voice breathed, "I am impressed. You're quite the dancer." Hogan closed his eyes as a nimble set of fingers twirled themselves around the head of his dearest appendage before they quickly - and frustratingly - disappeared. "Are all American officers so accomplished?"

Hogan glanced around the dance floor. Most of the other Allied personnel were lost in their own worlds; a few of the other officers were surreptitiously groping their dates. "Just me," he smiled. "A date without a dance isn't much of a date."

"So true," his date casually replied. "And yet, it does make for a rare combination in you."

"And that is..." the Colonel inquired, a humorous grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. Her ruby red lips returned the gesture fivefold before she leaned forward.

"Oh, the old saying," the woman breathed. "Tall, dark and handsome." Her hand found its target once more; Hogan shuddered as waves of pleasure cascaded though his body. "And such a _big_ man, too," she murmured seductively, emphasizing the intended word.

"We aim to please," the officer cheekily replied as he tried to collect his euphoric wits. Strangely, a small - very small, he noted - part of his mind wondered where his date was from. Obviously she wasn't one of the English locals; her accent was disturbingly familiar. He just couldn't place it.

"I imagine you do," the woman whispered before her lips met his once more. This time they seemed different. The flavor was there, yet distant; likewise the feel was...

_...cold?_

Suddenly, the air turned positively chilly as she broke away to rest her head on his shoulder. "And you know what else, darling?" she continued, her voice turning husky.

"What's that?" Hogan asked, his curiousity roused. Even as he spoke, his eyes darted around the room. Nothing seemed amiss but there was something...off... to his now-alert senses. Just then, an icy blast of air numbed the side of his head. Instinctively he looked down and tried to pull away but his date held him in a viselike grip. As he struggled, his eyes flicked upward once more.

Immediately, he wished they hadn't.

A pair of skeletons - one wearing a Navy officer's uniform; the other in a dress - danced serenely across the polished wood floor. White bones, glistening wetly underneath the golden overhead light, twirled slowly together in a seductive embrace. More corpses nearby swayed to the discordantly now-somber music. Hogan stared transfixed as a pair of rotting corpses sashayed by; to his horror he could see a _heart_ beating through one of the exposed ribcages.

Gathering his strength, he tore free from his date's grip. As he staggered backwards he almost threw up. A woman's corpse - with fragments of dark hair still clinging to the skull - stood there; her red dress - stained, yet mostly intact - hung loosely off the decaying body. At that moment she advanced upon the Colonel. A choking smell of putrefaction wafted into his nostrils and set him gagging before her dead lips opened once more.

"It's time to wake up, darling," her now-hollow voice tonelessly grated even as her unnatural arms reached outward. "It's time to _WAKE UP-_"

* * *

><p>Colonel Hogan's eyes snapped open. Without thinking about it, he bolted upward...<p>

...and was rewarded by a wave of pain as his skull slammed into a solid object. Groaning, he raised his hand to his now-sore head. It took him a moment for his befuddled mind to realize there was something different about the simple maneuver.

_Handcuffs!_ He tested the manacles; unsurprisingly they felt quite solid on his wrists. The only difference between these and the ones he was familiar with was that this one had a foot or so of chain between the steel bracelets.

_When was I arrested? Where? I-_

Just then, his fingertips brushed against something overhead. He reached out into the pitch darkness and felt...

...wood. He ran his fingers across the seemingly solid surface.

_A bunk?,_ he wondered. _No. Too low for that. There's no slats, either..._

He let his fingertips glide across the wood and to his right. To his growing horror the material cornered and went downward to the 'bed' he was laying on.

_Oh, God!_

Now alarmed, he moved his arms and legs around and found the same hard wood in all directions. He rapped his knuckles against the solid surface; only a dull thump echoed back to his ears. The darkness, now suffocating, closed in upon him as he finally recognized the terrifying truth.

Someone had buried him alive.

* * *

><p>In an instant, his mind flashed back to the horrible night in the graveyard...<p>

_...and to the screams of that woman as she rose up from her tomb and into the land of the living. Claw marks, gouged into the interior lid, only began to hint at the madness she endured..._

_Focus!_ Hogan closed his eyes and pushed the terrifying image out of his mind. _That won't be me! I won't let it happen to me!_ He reached out and hesitantly touched the wood above his head once more.

_Dirt's behind there,_ he finally decided. _Or something solid._ He narrowed his useless eyes as he remembered his last mission

_What did I walk into?_ He winced as he rolled his head to the left. Gingerly, he probed a swelled lump on his left temple. Apparently, someone had cold cocked him but good.

_But who? Why?_ A sudden image flared into his mind's eye.

_The girl!_

And then, he remembered...

* * *

><p>In hindsight he should have called the mission off. As usual, however, London needed the secret plans that had fallen into his lap. Fortunately the timing was perfect: Hochstetter was in Düsseldorf on business. Klink was...well, Klink. What could go wrong?<p>

The moonlit woods around the deserted barn were just that...deserted. Even so, Hogan imagined all sorts of worst-case scenarios. A battalion of guards could be hiding in the trees, for example. His 'contact' could be waiting with a pistol and handcuffs. There could be everything and anything in the barn

He just didn't expect to see _her._

The girl - she couldn't have been any older than eighteen - stared back at him with frightened blue eyes. Brown ropes crisscrossed her body in a tight embrace; a white gag covered her mouth. The Colonel, shocked, blinked once to try to make the apparition disappear.

And again.

She was still there.

Suddenly, the girl's gaze flicked to a spot above Colonel Hogan's left shoulder. Her frantic grunts, muffled by the white gag, broke through the American officer's stupor. Too late, he realized the danger he was in. At that very moment he started to whirl to his left-

-just as a hard blow slammed into his head, sending him into unconsciousness.

* * *

><p><em>And now I'm here.<em> The American raised his chained hands and knocked on the board with his knuckles as hard as he could. In response, he heard something light fall against his chest. Hogan fingered the invisible granules for a long moment.

_I'd bet anything that's dirt,_ he reasoned again, a desperate - if not crazy - plan forming in his mind. _And if it is, I can use it to get out of here!_

_If I'm lucky._

Hogan traced the inside lid of his rough coffin with his fingertips. _How much does earth weigh?_ he wondered. _I know a shovelful is heavy enough. And if there's six feet of dirt above me...lots of dirt..._ He stopped, then shook his head.

_First things first,_ he firmly thought, shoving the unpleasant thoughts away. _I need to get out of here. If I can break the lid - which should have a lot of weight on it - I should be able to dig my way out through the loose soil._

_That's a big if._

_And I can't do that unless I can sit up. Stand up. If I can't, I'm dead._

_If I can't break the lid, though..._ He took a deep breath of the now-stale air.

_Here we go, then._ Hogan tensed, then stopped.

_Wait a minute._ He reached underneath his head and removed a cloth - _some kind of shirt?_ he wondered - before he put it over his face. The pungent tang of old oil filled his lungs.

_I'd rather breathe that in than dirt._

_Now...1...2...3..._

Pain surged through Hogan's legs as he slammed his knees into the lid of the coffin. The wood failed to budge.

_Again!_

He ignored the fire in his lower limbs as they bashed against the unyielding surface twice more. The Colonel gritted his teeth in frustration.

_Just how thick are these damn-_

With a sharp _crack_ the boards across the top gave way. Dirt, damp and suffocating, cascaded into his tomb.

* * *

><p><em>Next: Ascending into Hell.<em>

_The history of people being buried alive (particularly before modern times) is a depressingly rich one. There was one chap (I think this was back around 14th or 15th century or so) who the Catholic church wanted to make into a saint. In the process - and for whatever reason - they dug him up and discovered claw marks on the inside of his coffin. Given the medical conditions of the era it was not surprising that he came back to life. However, despite the miracle, they refused to make him into a saint. I guess the thinking was that if he couldn't arise from the grave he wasn't worthy enough for the title. Go figure._

_Side note: If you've read Darkness then you know that the ghost was romantically involved with Major Hochstetter when she was alive...nauseating as the thought may be. Nothing lasts forever._

_Have a great day!_


	2. Ascending into Hell

**_Darkness II: Richter's Women  
><em>****_by 80sarcades_**

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><p><em>Welcome back! Digging his way out of trouble has more than one meaning for our dear Colonel:-)<em>

_Many thanks to **Missy the Least** for helping with this chapter! She's so wonderfully talented and nice! Truly, she's a gem of the north..._

_(looks around nervously before continuining in a stage whisper)_

_...and she told me to say that or else she'd...(hears knuckles crack in distance; the good-looking guy, startled, whirls around once before cracking a used-car salesman smile.)_

_Didn't I say my sister is wonderful?_

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><p>Working quickly, Colonel Hogan shoved the incoming dirt to his sides before he twisted his body around. Somehow he was able to scrunch his torso down just enough to where he could grab onto the broken lip of the casket. He barely felt the sharp splinters that tore at the flesh of his hands as he struggled to pull himself upward. Suddenly a new inrush of heavy soil forced him back down. Despair, quickly replaced by terror, clawed at his heart.<p>

_God, I don't want to die here!_

With a desperate rush of strength, Hogan braced his hands against the bottom of the coffin and _pushed_. Clumps of dirt assaulted his upper body as he managed to rise to his knees. Slowly - too slowly - his now-frantic hands clawed at the soil that enveloped his body. Earth, loose and moist, covered his head and threatened to suffocate him once and for all-

And then, he felt a soft breeze brush against his fingers as they broke into the open air. A second later his other hand punched through the earthen barrier before both appendages worked to push the final layers away from his clothed head.

Without hesitating, he ripped the shirt away and literally gulped the air that rushed into his tortured lungs. For a moment he rested and savored the simple feeling of being _alive_. The moon above his eyes bathed the soil around him in a dull silvery light. In the distance he could hear the distantly thunderous peals of an approaching storm along with the sharp _yaps_ of a barking dog. At that moment he wondered about the girl.

_What did I walk into?_ he wondered. _A kidnapping? A murder?_

A chilling thought suddenly flowed through his veins. _They - whoever they are - buried me. Why not just kill me outright? What's the purpose?_

_And if they went through this effort, are they still around?_

_I need to get out of here!_

Colonel Hogan quickly brushed away the dirt surrounding his chest and midsection. The soil that trickled downward now seemed harmless. Simple earth, in other words.

_And if I didn't wake up...or woke up too late..._

He shuddered at the chilling thought before he raised his bound hands and pushed them over the lip of the grave. If he was lucky, he might find something to help him climb out of the hole. If not, he'd have to do it the hard way.

Fortunately, his good fortune held as his tortured fingers brushed against the rough surface of a rope. He pulled on the long strand. Luckily for him it was connected to something firm.

_Any port in a storm._

He quickly grasped the thick line with his hands and pulled. It took several tries - slow ones, hampered by the chain between his wrists - but he was finally able to pull his body free of its earthly prison and onto flat ground. He looked back at the open grave as he slowly, hesitatingly, stood up on_ terra firma_.

_Thank you, God!_

The lifeline was still clutched in his hand. He started to drop it, then paused in reflection.

_Why would you put a rope next to a grave_? he wondered. _Doesn't make sense..._

Frowning, he studied the cord for a moment before he looked around. The moonlight revealed a nearby rock that had a coil of rope wrapped around the base. He worked his way to the other end of the fibrous wire and cocked his head in puzzlement at what his still-trembling fingers found.

_Knots?_

Curious, he held the odd work up to the light of the full moon...and nearly dropped it in shock. A hangman's noose, silhouetted in the dim light, hung before his stunned eyes.

_What the hell?!_

Just then, a slow clapping echoed though the empty forest. Hogan whirled around to see a shadowy figure standing near the darkened trees.

"Congratulations, my dear Colonel," the stranger announced. "I'm impressed. But then, what does one expect from an officer with your reputation?"

"We aim to please," Hogan suddenly raspy voice quipped as he tried to glimpse the stranger's face. Unfortunately, something - a hat - obscured his features. "I presume you're not Doctor Livingstone."

"Quite," the other man acknowledged. Hogan couldn't quite place the accent; the language was German, but the tone had an almost British trace intertwined in the voice...

"I see you found my greeting," the other man continued. "A bit macabre, to be sure, but I wanted to add a bit of surprise to the fun."

Hogan blinked. He briefly glanced at the noose with narrowed eyes before he dropped the rope to the ground. "I hate to interrupt," he began casually, "but just who the hell are you?"

"Ah! My apologies, then!" The figure gave a short bow before the click of heels echoed through the small clearing. "Hans Richter. At your service. I must say you are quite the man, Colonel Hogan. I doubt lesser men would have had the fortitude to survive their personal chamber of horrors. Well done!"

"Thanks," the American officer muttered softly before he raised his voice. "Well, if you don't mind, I'll be going now..."

"Unfortunately, I believe your future plans have come to a permanent end," Richter said. Hogan noticed that his interrogator was cradling what looked in the dimness to be a spade.

"And here I thought we were becoming friends," the POW observed, keeping his voice level. "Nothing like bringing some iron to a gunfight, huh?"

"Iron to a gunfight...ah, yes," the man repeated. "From your old west. An interesting saying, is it not? But you do more than that, Papa Bear."

A glint of metal suddenly appeared in the stranger's right hand as he picketed the tool solidly in the dirt with his left. Colonel Hogan didn't have to be told what that glint was; with its appearance, his chances of escape had fallen from slim to none.

"I'm not much for fairytales, Richter," Hogan cheerfully called out. "I'm just a simple Prisoner of War. You'd probably get a commendation for bringing me in."

"And ruin our fun?" the German coolly replied. "Wolfgang said you were resourceful at escaping your ultimate fate. He admires you in a way, though he is loath to admit it."

"Major Hochstetter," the Colonel breathed in understanding. "I take it he's a friend?"

"Oh, yes," Richter acknowledged. "An old childhood friend. He has the quite fantastical notion that you are the notorious Papa Bear. None of his superiors believe him. Even I had doubts. But now..." He let the statement trail off.

"So what convinced you?"

"Your presence at the barn would be a start," the stranger explained. "The papers found in your pants pocket. And finally, the outfit itself. Escaping Prisoners of War generally wear civilian suits. They typically do not wear dark clothing more suited for sabotage work. Your plans interrupted my...entertainment."

Hogan shivered at the man's casual use of the last word. "The girl," he breathed.

"The girl," the other man confirmed. "I had to dispose of her once you arrived. A shame, really; I was hoping to enjoy her delights for some time before her untimely end."

"You mean you were going to _rape_ her," the Colonel countered, disgust dripping from his cool tones. "You sick bastard."

"And that is their function, is it not?" Richter coolly retorted. "Women, I must admit, are interesting if somewhat fickle creatures. However, they only have one real purpose where a man is concerned."

"And I guess you...bury them...when you're done with them," the American reluctantly inquired while subtly eyeing the nearby tree line. The woods were only a few dozen feet away. However, he had the distinct feeling that his newfound companion would shoot him before he was able to reach cover.

"In a sense, yes," Richter answered. "Given that, your interruption was quite fortunate. For some time now I've been quite curious as to the strength of the male versus the female. The willingness to survive, as it were." He waved the pistol in the direction of the open grave. "As you can see, the plan was a success."

"What plan?" Colonel Hogan asked, although he already could guess. A sick feeling pervaded his stomach as he waited for the answer.

"A simple one in concept, of course," the German said. "Once I was done sampling her pleasures I intended to put her in your place. Much as I did for the others of her kind." A derisory snort carried on the stirring breeze to Hogan's ears. "Your arrival gave me the chance to test my theory," he went on. "To see what a strong man would do in the place of a weak woman. Fortunately, in the battle of the sexes you proved to be the winner."

The POW resisted, just barely, the urge to throw up. "You bury people _alive_ to see if they'll survive?" he spat.

"Admittedly, it does require a bit of effort to reap the benefits," the other man explained, his voice as nonchalant as if he were discussing the weather. "To be fair, I don't expect them to live. They are just women after all." A small unseen grin crept into the man's voice. "It is quite...enlightening, shall we say...to hear them once they wake up to their surroundings. To hear their screams, muted by earth, and knowing that I am the only one that can save them...oh..."

To Hogan's horror, a small shudder of pleasure pulsed through the man's now-labored tones. This time the officer lost control. Richter continued as if nothing had happened.

"None of the others had the courage to survive. To look beyond their pathetic girlish screams and fight for their lives. A pity." Hogan narrowed his eyes at the sorrow - real or imagined - that laced the man's cultured tones.

The Colonel glanced at the nearby grave. "I take it you'll want me to go back into the coffin," he said bluntly.

"I can't have you going around telling people about _them_, can I?" the stranger coolly replied, his hand rock-steady on the pistol. "As you may have noted, we Germans are an efficient people. Your death will be quick; I have no intention of letting a real man like yourself suffer needlessly. Any last words?"

A quick image of Hogan's mother passed through his mind.

_I'm sorry, Mom,_ he lamely thought. _My luck just ran out._

Colonel Hogan defiantly straightened up and squared his shoulders before looking his executioner in the eye. "You may fire when you are ready, Gridley," he icily intoned. "And personally, I hope you drop dead."

Richter said nothing. Instinctively, Hogan tensed for the blow...

...and out of the corner of his eye he saw something - a shadow - flitter through the nearby woods. Without thinking, he leaped for the nearby tree line and heard the angry _buzz_ of a shot, followed by another, pass through the spot he had been standing. A burst of nearby thunder muffled the next two reports as the Colonel ran into the dark woods.

Hogan stopped next to a shadowy tree and tried to control his heavy breathing. He assumed the German was somewhere nearby; he didn't seem like the type of man to leave a task unfinished.

_What now?_

The answer was obvious: _Get to the camp_. Unfortunately, he had no clue as to his location. He doubted that he was that far from 'home'...

Another shot echoed through the forest before ricocheting against a tree. The American Colonel fought the impulse to run and instead stayed where he was. Suddenly, Richter's voice rang out.

"You're only delaying the inevitable, Colonel," he taunted. "I was raised to hunt in woods like these. And I never lose."

_There's always a first time! _Hogan wanted to shout back but kept silent. A fresh wind rustled the branches on the trees and slid past his frightened body. The POW could smell the moisture in the changed air. A storm was coming.

_And I'd like to avoid the both of them!_

_Where's Hochstetter when you really need him?_

He went completely still as he sensed something slowly glide between the trees. A shadowy figure stopped for a moment before moving on to disappear in the darkness.

_This isn't good. Not at all. _If he were a betting man he'd lay several big ones on Richter. It was obvious that the man knew how to hunt. The ultimate conclusion was obvious: if he didn't get out of these woods, and soon, he was a dead man.

Carefully, he started to make his way through the quiet forest. Fortunately the thunder that had earlier muffled the shots now worked in his favor to cover his tracks. Blindly, Hogan moved onward into the unknown. He flicked his eyes heavenward for a moment before he invoked a silent prayer.

_God, I hope you're listening. I sure could use some help right now._

In response, the clouds rumbled noisily once more. Just then his foot came down on a dry twig and snapped it. Hogan felt, rather than saw, invisible eyes on him. Abandoning all pretense, he began to run for his life.

_What I wouldn't give for a cab right now!_

Just then, a shot rang out.

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><p><em>Next: The Graveyard.<em>

_A/N: I don't think this story is going to win any brownie points from Hogan at Fanfic Court:-)_

_I wish I could say burying people alive is just a horror writer's dream. Unfortunately, history is rife with people burying others for varying reasons. There was even one case where a school bus full of kids was kidnapped and held for ransom. Guarding Tess, an excellent Nicholas Cage movie (before his career went south) is another perfect example._

_One of the more horrendous real-life examples concerned a woman by the name of Tiffany Cole. The victims (an elderly couple) told her in confidence that they had made nearly $100,000 on the sale of property. In response, she (along with her male cohorts) robbed the couple before burying them alive in a previously dug grave. She was convicted of first degree murder and sentenced to death._


	3. The Graveyard

**_Darkness II: Richter's Women  
><em>****_by 80sarcades_**

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><p><em>Welcome back!<em>

_First, I want to thank everyone who reviewed thus far as well as those who congratulated me on my birthday:-) I had to stop and put things aside and concentrate on work for a while. I've finally gotten things caught up only to be sidetracked by my wife's flu and then way more work. Joy._

_If anyone is interested I'm going to post an unfortunate (and completely avoidable) way someone can talk their way out of a job in the 'random thoughts' section of the Hogan's Heroes forum. It's not me, thank goodness; however, it was something that I'm at a loss to understand._

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><p><em>Just then, a shot rang out..<em>

A whining object nearly clipped Colonel Hogan's ear before disappearing into the darkness.

_That was close!_

Another shadow - this one a massive tree - loomed out of the moonlit night. Hogan ducked around the barrier and came to a rest on the far side of the wood tower. For a brief moment the POW tried to calm his shaky nerves and heart while simultaneously planning his next course of action. To that end he crouched down and quietly scratched around in the cool dirt. Fortunately, his probing fingers found a jagged rock.

_It'll have to do._

He used his cuffed hands to throw it as hard as he could in the direction he had been traveling. Hogan could almost feel his pursuer approaching in response to the raspy noise. If he was close enough, he could jump the man and take his pistol.

_And then, what happens, happens. _The officer's jaw tightened noticably as a grim look passed over his handsome face.

The German almost floated across the forest floor before he stopped in place. Unfortunately, the shadowy figure was a dozen or so feet away.

_Too far._

The Colonel tensed, preparing to jump when the German moved towards his position...

...and then narrowed his eyes in frustration as his nemesis turned and melted into the darkness. The wind, stronger now, covered the noise - if any - of his departure.

Despite himself, Hogan was awed._ How the hell did he do that? If I didn't know better I'd swear he was a ghost..._

The American waited until he was sure Richter was gone before he silently stole away in the other direction. Save for the moonlight filtering between the trees the forest was nearly pitch black. Unbidden, a primal fear of the darkness welled up in his soul before he ruthlessly squashed the errant emotion.

Slowly, Colonel Hogan threaded his way between the towering trunks. A few minutes later - though he would have sworn it was an hour - he saw a luminous haze emanating from the upcoming trees. At first he assumed it was a sign of civilization. However, the reality almost defied description.

A spectral pathway, lit up by a bluish glow, greeted his eyes. Every so often the light would pulse and flicker as if the path and trees were somehow _alive_. Granted, as a pilot he had seen some strange sights before. But this...

_This must be some kind of St. Elmo's Fire,_ he surmised. _Or something_ _natural._ He cut his eyes to the darkened woods surrounding the phenomenon while he considered his dwindling options.

_I'm not about to look a gift horse in the mouth_, the Colonel finally decided. I_'m not sure where_ _it leads but it's a lot better than stumbling around in the dark. _With that, he started down the path into the unknown.

* * *

><p>For his part, Richter was both patient and confident.<p>

It had been quite some time since he had faced a real challenge from a worthy opponent. The American, he conceded, was both wily and dangerous...two qualities that made him an effective resistance leader.

_Alas, poor Wolfgang,_ he thought sadly. _You were outmatched from the start. But then again you always were. But not I._

_I was always the better hunter._

_It will be a shame to put a man like the Colonel down, but I must. His end, as I promised, will be swift. It is the least I can do for such an worthy adversary. A real man..._

_What's this?_

At that moment Richter saw the blue glow of the pathway. A detached part of his cold mind was enthralled with the phenomena.

_In all of my travels I have never observed anything like this!_ he marveled. _If anything, it reminds me of the human body. A forest version of blood flowing back and forth on an ethereal pathway._

_And, like the sirens of old, this is something that our dear Colonel would follow if he hopes to survive. Really and truly, what choice does he have?_ He shook his head in disappointment at the deserted area. _I myself would have ambushed my opponent from such a place. Perhaps Hogan is not as smart as I thought..._

Cautiously, Richter started to make his way down the path. As he did so he failed to notice the glowing red eyes that were locked onto his departing back.

* * *

><p>The lighted walk was...eerie...to say the least.<p>

Colonel Hogan followed the blue lightway until the trees gave way to an open clearing. What he saw surprised him.

_The graveyard!_

It had only been a year since he had traveled to the cemetery on that fateful night with Major Hochstetter. The look on the woman's face and the deep gouges she had left in her coffin lid still gave him nightmares from time to time.

A gust of cool wind blew into his face as he walked towards the front gates. He knew exactly where he was now. Stalag 13 lay only a short distance beyond the graveyard. Just a hop, skip, and a jump...

_...after walking through the tombstones._

The thought was enough to give Hogan pause.

Even now, Newkirk refused to go near the graveyard. The Colonel had assumed that it was due to the horror he had found beneath the earth.

_But there was more to it, wasn't there_? a part of his mind surmised. _Who called Hochstetter that night? He knew who it was; I could tell that much. However, if I didn't know any better I would almost say the man was scared. _

Colonel Hogan lifted the rusted iron stay out of its holder and pushed the main gate open. A loud groan from the creaky hinges caused him to cringe involuntarily even as his head whirled around for any surprises. Thankfully, no one was nearby.

At least no one he could see. The officer shivered.

_Peter never talked about that night, either. All he said was that he was passing through the graveyard when he heard noises coming from underneath the ground. Pure luck. I might be inclined to believe him too if it wasn't for that nightmare. T_he POW shivered at the remembered words:

_No…stay away from me…_

_…you're all dead._

_What did Newkirk see?_ he wondered. It wasn't the first time the corporal had had a dream about the graveyard. What was unusual, however, was that none of them concerned the coffin and the living woman.

Only dead people.

_There was something else, too._ Hogan suddenly recalled. _Something worse._ An English accent, drenched in terror, then whispered in his mind:

_The angels are moving…_

Colonel Hogan carefully ventured into the moonlit graveyard and shivered as his eyes caught sight of a stone figurine, its wings extended, perched on top of a nearby headstone. The wind, stronger now, was flecked with bits of moisture that pelted against his bare skin. Ordinarily he loved rainstorms.

_But not tonight._

He crouched down by one of the tall gravestones and looked toward the closed entrance. His pursuer was no longer in sight. His eyes then glanced toward the rear of the graveyard. Stalag 13 wasn't too far away...

_I can't run,_ another part of his mind decided.

_I have to kill him._

A righteous wave of fury surged through his body for a brief moment before a cold calm settled into his soul. In his mind's eye he could see the tormented eyes of the girl pleading with him to save her...

_Even if he didn't know who I was - and he does - I can't stand aside and let him murder someone else. And what proof do I have besides a missing girl? None. I don't even know where my 'grave' is. Even if I did, an empty box in the ground proves nothing._

_I doubt Hochstetter would let it go, though. Say what you will about the man but he does have a strong sense of justice. He doesn't play favorites and I doubt he will make an exception for his friend. And yet..._

_...it's not right._

_At best, Richter will get the death sentence. At worst he'll live out his days in a cell. Either way, the man will go out with more dignity than his victims._

_Plus, he knows who I am. By extension he knows about Stalag 13. That's enough._

_Isn't it?_

_We've managed to get rid of others that were threats to the operation. Military and civilian. For the most part we've been lucky enough to get most of them out of the country. Some were killed by bombs or other accidents._

_Even at that..._

Hogan ducked around a convenient tombstone and looked around. Except for the wind, nothing else stirred. For a moment he tried to calm his pounding heart...

...and saw, out of the corner of his eye, an orange flash of light moments before a bullet struck the marker next to his crouched body. Shards of granite cut into his left cheek as he hunched down and scurried for new cover. Richter's voice, carried on the high wind, floated across the dead graveyard.

"My promise stands, Colonel," he called. "Come out and die like a man. I assure you it will be quick." A brief pause followed; Hogan could almost _feel_ the man's victorious smirk. "I doubt Wolfgang will be as lenient."

The American stayed where he was as a peal of thunder rolled though the graveyard. "I wouldn't bet the farm on giving up," he yelled before he changed positions. As expected, he saw the hunter's shadow pass against one of the nearby gray markers. Unfortunately, just as before, the other man was too far away to effectively attack.

"Ah, another American witticism," Richter said. This time his sinister whisper drifted like poisonous vapor into the POW's ears.

Hogan moved once more. A powerful gust buffeted his face as he raced across the dark grounds to a set of tall markers. The moon, higher now, was threatened by the storm clouds that raced in from the southwest. The Colonel's wary eyes scanned the next - and now recognizable - trio of tall headstones. He knew where he was, more or less; if he could leapfrog his way to the tool shack he might be able to find something to use as a weapon. Perhaps if he was lucky he could lay some sort of trap.

_Maybe._

Colonel Hogan scanned the seemingly desolate grounds again. He slipped between the high stones, ready to run-

- and came face to face with Hans Richter, his gun upraised. At that moment a cloud covered the moon and plunged the graveyard into inky darkness.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Alas, poor Hogan! Not to worry, I'm sure your GI insurance is up to date:-) Maybe._

_In that vein (and on a tangent) I remember reading an interesting story about said insurance. The payout was supposed to go to your next of kin or other beneficary. In practice it went to girlfriends, family members and pretty much anyone else who was an American citizen. A soldier in the South Pacific received a 'Dear John' letter from his girlfriend who left him for another man. Some two weeks later he was killed in combat. His buddies took some solace in the fact that he had changed beneficiaries a few days before he was killed. I wonder if she ever tried to collect?_

_Thanks for reading!_


	4. Running from the Devil

**Darkness II: Richter's Women**  
><strong>by 80sarcades<strong>

* * *

><p><em>Hogan continues his escape...though with a bit of help from the other side...and I don't mean the Germans, either.<em>

* * *

><p>A cold, almost calculating smile passed across Richter's features as he considered his wily opponent.<p>

_With men like this, Germany would win the war. A pity._

For the first time he briefly considered that he might...lose...this particular engagement. In a pitched battle of equal minds...

_The end is unpredictable._

He looked at the pistol in his hand. _Humanity may have advanced, but we may as well be fighting with rocks and clubs._

_Still, it is a challenge that I gratefully accept. We are at war, after all. One side must win. Even if it means destroying a kindred spirit._

_And what then?_ Richter breathed a silent sigh as he considered the future.

_It might be worthwhile consider a different strategy when it comes to...them, _he reflected. _After all, we have proved that they are the weaker sex even when under stress. Perhaps, if pain is applied, the mind will change. An interesting concept, even when working when an inferior base..._

_However I will have to take care of my dear Colonel Hogan first. Save for his men, I doubt he would be able to rouse anyone against me even if he did make it back to Stalag 13. Even then it would be easy enough to arrange an accident._

_That, however, may raise a set of new questions...particularly if his men decide to take revenge on his behalf._

_No. It has to be done here and now._

He moved around a set of stones and patiently observed the windblown area. A dark shadow between two of the large headstones immediately caught his attention. Richter raised his gun, then paused as his analytical mind evaluated the 'target.'

_No_, he quickly concluded. _It's just a shadow from a nearby headstone. An odd trick of the light..._

At that moment a shroud of black covered the cemetery. Richter froze, his body like stone-

-and then the cloud passed before bathing the graveyard in eerie light once more. Only the leaves, whipped by the wind, moved in endless circles across the grass. Richter silently cursed to himself before he moved onward.

* * *

><p>Colonel Hogan, like all men, wondered what would happen when death finally touched him, Would he meet it headlong? Or cower to the unknown?<p>

Despite his fear, the officer resolutely kept his eyes open even as the muzzle of the gun swung his way. Idly, a small part of his mind noted that the German couldn't miss. Not at close range.

To Hogan's surprise Richter's body suddenly turned away before fading into the murky darkness.

_What the hell?_

Belatedly, the American realized that his knees were shaking. He drew in a ragged breath and composed himself.

_He could have killed me. But he didn't._

_Why?_

Hogan shook the troubling thoughts away and concentrated his thoughts on staying alive. At that moment he willed his trembling legs to move forward towards the next set of headstones. A chilling wave of cold sliced at his bones as he passed between the two stone markers. The sensation was enough to give the Colonel pause before he was able to shrug the odd feeling away.

Instinctively, he cast a glance over his left shoulder. To the American's disbelieving eyes a man-sized shadow between the two tall headstones seemed to be slipping down into the dark ground.

_It's just my imagination_, he tried to tell himself as a chill washed down his spine. _ There's nothing there. There's nothing there-_

A flash of light, accompanied by a peal of thunder, flowed through the cemetery like an advancing army. The Colonel, alert now, ducked around and behind the formed stones as he worked his way toward the far end of the graveyard. Just then a bolt of lighting sizzled down from the heavens and struck a tree some fifty feet away. Light pulsed through the nearly deserted resting place as Hogan's eyes flicked off to the right.

And froze.

Time slowed to a imperceptible crawl as Hogan stared at one of the nearby headstones.

Or, more accurately, the woman leaning against it.

A faint smile graced her delicate features as her dark eyes stared into those of the American officer. Oddly, a detached part of the Colonel's mind noted that her hair and dress were unaffected by the rising wind. He started to speak just as the cemetery was plunged into blackness.

Another bolt of lighting crackled through the area. In the light that followed, Hogan looked at the stone cross once more.

The woman was gone.

_But I saw her_, his disbelieving mind repeated. _I saw her._

_The woman from my dreams..._

Just then, another blaze of fire - followed quickly by another torrent of light - struck a set of nearby headstones. Colonel Hogan gave up the game of cat and mouse and began to run outright. There was no way he would be able to make it to Stalag 13 now. It was only a matter of time before one of the deadly strikes hit him.

However, there was one place - conveniently lit up by the white bolts - that he could run to.

* * *

><p>Richter gasped involuntarily as a column of light slammed into the ground not more than 10 feet away from him. The impact was enough to knock him backwards even as a jolt of electricity coursed through his strong body. He blinked and tried to clear the spots from his vision even as he grabbed onto an ornately decorated headstone to pull himself up. Another jagged streak - this one further away - announced its presence with a brilliant flash.<p>

_That was close!_

Just then, another burst revealed a shadow running across the grounds. Richter resisted the urge to raise his pistol.

_I do believe I know where he is going,_ he decided. _Just as well. Not to mention appropriate._

_It is time to bring this to an end._

With that, he swung his eyes toward the chapel located at one corner of the graveyard. As they did so he casually noticed the windswept tombstone he had grabbed onto earlier.

_I would have sworn..._

He dismissed the errant thought.

_Obviously, there were three angels, not two,_ he reassured himself. _I was mistaken._

At that moment a heavy rain began to fall from the heavens. Cursing, the German turned away from the frozen tableau and quickly started to make his way toward the chapel. Had he been more astute - or, more accurately, not distracted by the falling flood - he would have observed the trio of angel heads that glared at his retreating back, their suddenly long fangs dripping wetly in anticipation...

Another burst of light flared through the cemetery before the grounds plunged into darkness. When the flickering whiteness appeared once more the headstone was empty.

* * *

><p>The short walk proved to be an adventure. Pelting rain, carried by high winds, assaulted Richter's face despite his hat and upraised coat collar. Occasionally, he would breathe the burnt ozone of a nearby strike into his calm lungs. Oddly, none of the bolts impacted his path but instead struck the ground on his left and right. It was as if someone were herding him toward his destination...<p>

_Nonsense,_ he decided. _Only coincidence_.

Still, it was enough to add an extra layer of caution to his movements. He reached the chapel and prepared himself to throw open the doors to find-

Nothing.

Save for several flickering lightbulbs the church was seemingly empty. Or, at the least, appeared to be. A trail of drying puddles announced the presence of his adversary. These ended halfway up the aisle but it was enough.

_At long last..._

Richter raised the pistol and crept forward. As he expected, Hogan wasn't behind the large doors.

_And he wouldn't be, would he? He's more creative than that._

The interior of the church was rather simple. Stone floors, rough wooden pews, wooden roof beams...

_And the requisite cross on the altar._ Reflexively, he raised his hand to cross himself and almost chuckled out loud.

_The Lord's will not be done tonight!_

Instead, he walked down the stone walkway and cut his eyes left and right. The pews were empty, raising his curiosity. He flicked his eyes upward; there were no surprises on the beams either.

_Where, oh where, are you my dear Colonel?_ Jut then, his alert eyes spotted the edge of a black piece of cloth sticking out from behind the pulpit. He smiled wickedly.

_Come out, come out wherever you are..._

He slipped quietly past the first pew and fixed his eyes on the target. At that moment, he aimed and fired.

At close range the 9mm slugs exited the muzzle and punched through the flat wood of the stand. He kept firing before the gun clicked into impotent silence. One hole, he noted absently, was in the exact center of the wooden cross hanging on the front.

No matter. Just then, he heard the thunk of something heavy hitting the floor.

He thumbed the release catch on the Luger and caught the empty magazine in his left hand before he replaced it with a fresh one. Absently, he slammed a new round into the chamber before he slowly approached the altar.

_Here lies Colonel Robert E. Hogan, he thought. A worthy adversary, regretfully put down in the prime of his life..._

_...or not._

He stared at the back of the altar and the box that lay on the floor behind the pulpit. One of the rounds had severed the support of a shelf and caused the container to fall. The remains of a black cloth - Hogan's shirt, he realized - lay on the floor. Obviously, it was used to trick him...

Just then, a sharp sound to his right caught his attention. Richter whirled in that direction-

-and realized, too late, that he had forgotten all about the sacristy on the left side of the altar. He had barely turned halfway around to face the changing room when Hogan, with all the finesse of a quarterback, slammed into his opponent's torso and propelled him into the side wall. The pistol dropped from the German's hand and skidded noisily towards the altar even as the POW raised his chained fists.

* * *

><p>Colonel Hogan wasted no time in slamming his curled knuckles into the face of the stunned German. He managed to get in at least three good blows in before Richter's powerful arm caught his chest and sent him flying like a rag doll through the altar railing. He lay there for a moment, stunned.<p>

_I should have remembered_, he belatedly thought. _He's strong. Damned strong. He digs graves..._

An image of the frightened girl pushed into his mind. With newfound strength, he pushed himself up and wobbled slightly before he launched himself at Richter. The German had just managed to get his hand on his weapon before the Colonel's impact. Hogan's bound hands wilted underneath the powerful arms of the other man as the two adversaries rolled around on the floor, struggling to gain the advantage-

-and Hogan was losing. He saw the black muzzle of death curve ever so slowly towards his face. Desperately, he slammed the back of his opponent's hand into a nearby railing. Richter cried in pain and dropped the pistol; the Colonel made a frantic grab for the Luger and finally felt the comforting grip of smooth gunmetal in his hand. Without hesitating, he rolled over and swung the end of the weapon towards the enemy.

He had nearly made it before an approaching blur filled his vision. With a burst of pain he sank into numbing darkness.

* * *

><p>Slowly...ever so slowly...Colonel Hogan struggled to return to consciousness. For a moment, he dreamed that he was back in his bunk at Stalag 13, about to wake up to another lousy roll call...<p>

...and then the vision shattered into reality as recent memories returned.

_Richter!_

He pushed himself up...and froze.

The German, his face expressionless, stood at the altar railing. His eyes, indifferent to the American's plight, locked onto Hogan's own.

"And so it ends, Colonel," he said as he lifted his pistol. "I must admit, you gave me quite the run...but in the end, German superiority must prevail." An evil smirk curled his lips as he aimed the Luger at Hogan's chest. "I think we can dispense with the final words this time, don't you?"

Hogan said nothing but let his angry glare speak for him. At the last moment an image of his men flashed through his mind before he closed his eyes.

_God bless you all._

Behind Richter, unseen by either man, the cross on the altar began to radiate a soft bluish glow. The Colonel involuntarily tensed for the moment of impact as he heard the snick of the pistol being cocked.

"You're dead," the German solemnly intoned.

And then, he pulled the trigger.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Cliffhangers are fun, aren't they?_

_Once upon a time I was an altar boy for the Episcopal Church. The sacristy was a small room to one side of the altar. From here, I would don a white robe before heading out to light the altar candles._


	5. Hell's Fate

_**Darkness II: Richter's Women  
>by 80sarcades<strong>_

* * *

><p><em>Welcome back!<em>

* * *

><p>Time, always present, slowed as Colonel Hogan faced death once more. He heard the measured breathing of his opponent before a loud crack shattered the stillness of the chapel.<p>

And then, nothing.

_Is this what death is like?_

_I didn't feel the bullet at all._

He took in a hesitantly shallow breath. Then another. Still, he was afraid to look.

_Will I see heaven?_ he wondered. _Or will I see..._ He let the dark thought trail off. Suddenly, another voice broke in on his supposed reality.

"You're dead."

_What?_

At that moment, he opened his eyes and saw Richter, gun in hand, standing with a shocked look on his face. The American blinked, then again, as he realized something else.

_I'm alive!_ his incredulous mind blurted. Just then he noticed that his adversary's dark eyes were fixed on a point above and beyond his head. Confused, he turned around.

And stopped breathing.

Seven glowing blue figures - all of them women - stood side by side in a line stretching across the small chapel. Dark forms, barely identifiable by the hoods that covered their faces, occupied the pews behind them.

_Dear God..._

As one, the women raised their right arms and pointed them towards their murderer. The action finally broke the German from his frozen stupor.

"YOU'RE DEAD!" Richter shrieked before his gun came alive once more. Bullets sprayed across the chamber and through the ghostly forms of his victims even as his forgotten opponent ducked out of the way. As Hogan came out of the roll, he looked up straight into the ethereal face of the girl that haunted his memories.

The one he couldn't save.

Despite the circumstances, Hogan couldn't stop the upswelling of emotion that gripped his heart.

"I'm sorry," he half-whispered, half-thought. A tear, unbidden, trailed wetly down his left cheek.

_I'm sorry I couldn't save you..._

As if she had heard him, the girl smiled. Her eyes, warm and compassionate, met his own. For a fleeting moment a indescribable feeling of reassurance and love replaced the sadness in his soul. Her eyes then broke the contact before they swung slowly, if not deliberately, off to the right.

At that moment the spectral figures - along with the cloaked shadows - vanished from the chapel. Hogan barely had time to process what he had just seen when the earth jolted beneath his body. Richter, his gun empty, somehow managed to keep himself from falling before he rapidly recovered his senses. With a quick motion he ejected the magazine and slammed a fresh one home, intending to complete his earlier task-

-and the ground shifted again. Without thinking about it, the Colonel rolled to his left just as the crack of rock tearing apart reverberated throughout the chapel. The heavy stench of sulfur filled the still air moments before an unearthly light flooded the chamber. Even so, it was close. Hogan felt something large and heavy fly past his head as the seemingly solid stones beneath his body gave way. Suddenly he was on solid ground; he whipped his head around expecting to see the small church on fire-

-and never felt his jaw drop in shock.

The shattered remains of wood pews and torn hymnal pages littered his stunned gaze. Beyond them a gaping chasm, approximately eight feet wide, stretched down the length of the small chapel before ending at the altar. Small fires clinging to the sides of the opening poked their golden heads upward to announce their presence. And as for Hans Richter...

_Where the hell is he?_

"HELP ME!" a rough voice shrieked. "FOR GOD'S SAKE, HELP ME!"

At that moment Colonel Hogan saw a pair of hands clutching the edge of the chasm nearest the altar. He forced himself to move forward and through the wooden ruins before he reached the desperate appendages. The POW looked over the stone lip to see his enemy, a terrified look in his eyes.

And behind him...

_OhGodOhGodOhGod-_

A liquid lake of fire, stretching as far as his horrified eyes could see, greeted him. Large golden flames leaped off the bright surface and sent heat waves crashing against Hogan's now-sweaty face as a muted tortured roar assaulted his ears. Oddly, numerous black dots littered the top layer of the glowing lake. It took the American a moment to realize what they truly were.

People.

Thousands upon thousands upon thousands of people. A literal sea of the damned...

"PULL ME UP!" Richter screamed.

Hogan turned away from the chilling vista and grabbed one of the man's hands with his chained pair. Slowly, he inched the German upward...

...just as his eyes caught sight of a new threat. A tall beastlike figure was literally crawling up the wall of the chasm towards them. Even as he pulled, the Colonel's eyes couldn't help but stare at the intruder. The thing had arms, legs and a head like a human but the similarity ended there. A red torso, heavily muscled and scarred, exuded raw power while a grotesque horned head stared up at the pair with fiery eyes. Black cloven hooves on the end of the strong legs inexplicably propelled whatever it was with surprising grace up the rocky surface.

At that moment, Richter's eyes caught sight of the new arrival. A high scream of terror filled the chapel even as his feet desperately flailed against the stone for a toehold. It did him little good; in moments the thing was upon them.

With a powerful jerk the beast tore Richter from Hogan's grasp. A cruel, almost jagged, grin appeared on the monster's face as it whirled the struggling body around like a rag doll before throwing him downward. The German, still screaming incoherently, grew smaller before he plunged into the lake of fire. The Colonel's incredulous eyes quickly lost sight of the black dot as it mixed in with the other damned. Just then, the thing turned a set of burning eyes toward the remaining human. A clawed hand, scaly and powerful, reached out to grasp its new prize-

-and instantly, the chasm slammed closed with a thunderous roar. The sudden movement knocked Colonel Hogan backward onto the stone floor. Recovering quickly, he picked himself up to find-

Nothing.

The chapel was empty.

The altar railing, as well as the stone floor and pews, were intact. Nothing else, save for his shaky nerves, was affected. It was as if he had come into the church alone. No earthquakes, no pursuers. Even the rain that had lashed at the church was gone; only the occasional rumble of the retreating thunderstorm remained.

_There's just me._

He picked himself up off the floor. Oddly, even the nauseating odor of sulfur was gone. In its place was the distinct smell of roses. Colonel Hogan looked around the empty chapel and tried to make sense of it all. Just then, a bundle of cloth on the altar caught his eye. It hadn't been there before; he stared at the pile in stupefied wonder.

_How?..._

Hogan walked up to the altar and picked up his brown uniform cap. His leather jacket, pants and other clothes lay neatly folded beneath it. To his surprise a small silvery object lay on top of the faded nametag. He looked around the chapel once more before he shook his head.

_I'm not going to ask._

The Colonel picked up the handcuff key and freed his chained wrists from their manacles before he gratefully slipped back into his usual outfit. He gathered the used clothing and manacles into a small bundle beneath his arm before he walked to the front doors of the chapel. Hogan took a last look at the deceptively calm atmosphere of the small chamber before his dumbfounded eyes stared at the pulpit.

An intact pulpit, to be more specific. The bullet holes were gone. Only the smooth wood - as well as an undamaged cross - remained. In the end, he shook his head.

_Did any of it really happen?_ he asked himself.

_Moreover: do I _want_ to believe it happened?_

A soft sigh escaped his lips before he reached out to turn off the light switches. As he opened the door, the Colonel's eyes flicked again to the now-dark interior.

"Thanks," he muttered to no one in particular.

"You're quite welcome," a familiar woman's voice purred from the darkness. Hogan, startled, peered into the shadows.

_No one's there!_

A light feminine giggle drifted to his ears. To Hogan's surprise, a dry chuckle of his own replied in kind before the sound of laughter - his laughter - echoed throughout the chapel.

It was good.

It was wonderful.

It was _alive_.

Colonel Hogan smiled warmly into the darkness before he stepped outside, closed the door, and made his way back to Stalag 13.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Richter goes to hell and the Colonel lives...as it should be. This is not the end of the story yet, however!_


	6. It Will Never End

_**Darkness II: Richter's Women  
>by 80sarcades<strong>_

* * *

><p><em>The final chapter.<em>

* * *

><p>"We were getting worried about you, Guv'nor," Peter Newkirk said by way of greeting. Relief, mixed with concern, was evident in his calm eyes as the other men expressed their own opinions. "LeBeau and I were about to go out and find you. We thought...well..." He let his voice trail off, but Hogan knew what he meant.<p>

_And you're right._ The Colonel merely nodded as he reassumed command.

"The contact didn't show up," he explained, keeping his voice neutral. "It took me a while to get back. The Krauts were crawling all over the place."

_And that's the truth, isn't it?_ he thought, suppressing a shiver. _There were Krauts - Germans - around._

_Live ones. _

_Dead ones._

Somehow, Hogan wasn't sure what the truth was anymore. T_here is a hell. I saw it with my own eyes. Conversely, there must be a heaven. And if I died tomorrow...which one would I go to?_

It was a sobering thought.

"Blackbird radioed us," Kinch explained, referring to one of their underground contacts. "The guy you were supposed to meet is dead." A macabre grin then tugged at the black radioman's lips. "Believe it or not, but he was apparently having an affair with someone else's wife. The husband found out about it, and well…" He let the final words trail off. "By the time Blackbird radioed us you were already gone."

Colonel Hogan struggled to keep himself calm while he processed the somber information. "How long was I gone before he called?"

The radio operator shrugged. "Five…maybe ten minutes," his low voice rumbled. "I started to come and get you, but..." He broke off in surprise at the wild look in his CO's eyes.

A demented, almost crazed laughter burst forth from Colonel Hogan's mouth before reverberating against the moist dirt walls of the tunnel.

_Five minutes!_ he thought. _Five lousy minutes! If it hadn't been for that…_

An image of the girl, followed by the vision of hell, flashed through his tortured thoughts once more. At that moment he almost felt as if the stakes holding his mind in place were being swept away…

"You okay, Colonel?" Newkirk's voice asked hesitantly. Their eyes locked together for a long moment—

…and Hogan suddenly remembered the other part of the RAF Corporal's nightmare. The one he didn't want to remember.

* * *

><p>"No...stay away..." Peter softly murmured, his calm tones laced in terror. "You're dead. All of you. You're dead..."<p>

The Colonel grimaced slightly as he looked down at the sleeping Englishman.

_Nightmares_. His concerned eyes lingered on Newkirk's form for a long moment as images of the woman's coffin escaped the darkest recesses of his mind. Suddenly the RAF Corporal sat up in the bed, his unseeing eyes peering into the dark.

"The angels are moving!" he groaned. "The angels..."

At that moment a cold breeze washed its way past Hogan's body before disappearing into the night. The Colonel, startled, jumped slightly before he quickly looked around the sleeping barracks.

_What the hell was that?_

The Senior POW shivered involuntarily as he glanced around the quiet barracks once more. He laid his eyes on the now-still Englishman. To his surprise a faint smile graced the man's handsome face.

_He's okay,_ Hogan thought, relieved. _Maybe I'm just jumpy._

The Colonel let out a long breath before he walked back to his quarters. He was about to shut the door to the room when something – a reflex action, perhaps – forced him to look back into the larger room. Just as he did so a searchlight washed over the front of the building, forcing its way through the numerous cracks and seams-

-and for an instant in time he froze.

A shadowy figure stood at the end of Newkirk's rough wooden bunk. To Hogan's horror, he immediately recognized a distinct female form standing there; the officer had the strangest feeling she was looking at him-

- and then the barracks plunged into dim darkness as the searchlight disappeared. A nameless terror gripped Hogan's heart even as his muscles failed to respond to the primal commands from his brain. Just then another harsh light from the probing beams invaded the barracks-

There was nothing there.

* * *

><p><em>But there was, wasn't there?<em> the Colonel reflected somberly. He looked at Newkirk.

"You saw her too, didn't you?" he asked, already knowing the answer. "She was in the graveyard."

A flicker of terror appeared in the Englishman's eyes before it quickly disappeared. For Hogan, it was enough.

"What woman?" LeBeau asked. The rest of the team members exchanged puzzled looks before the Colonel raised his hand.

"Never mind," he mumured. "I'm okay." He took off his uniform cap and rubbed his weary eyes. In the process he missed the startled looks the other men threw at each other. "It's just been a bad night," he finally said. "If you don't mind, I'll get some sleep." The Colonel flashed a lopsided, if not tired, smile at his men.

A chorus of answering replies followed the Colonel as he climbed up the hidden ladder to the barracks. For once, the tunnel was quiet; the men traded stunned glances before Carter broke the silence.

"Where did the white hair come from?" he wondered aloud. The streaks of gray among the dark hair had shocked them all. "He didn't have it when he left."

No one had a ready answer to that.

"We're all old," Newkirk eventually said. Oddly, his voice had a dull flatness to it. "This whole bloody war is turning us old. The Guv'nor's got the worst of the lot."

"He shouldn't have gone alone," LeBeau muttered, his voice low. "One of us should have gone with him."

Kinch shook his head. "It could have been any one of us," he rumbled. "You, Newkirk, Carter..." He let out a long breath. "I'm just glad he came back," he confessed.

"Yeah," Carter breathed. A faint tinge of pink graced his cheeks before he spoke again. "There is something else, though," he said uncomfortably. "It kind of scared me when the Colonel laughed the way he did. I guess..." The Sergeant's voice trailed off before starting again. This time, his normally happy tones were muted. "He just didn't seem the same, you know?," he began. "It makes me wonder if he's gone a little crazy-"

Without warning, LeBeau spun around and grabbed the front of Carter's jacket before he rammed the airman into the dirt wall. "There is nothing wrong with him," the smaller man hissed, the anger in his eyes almost venomous as he glared at the now-terrified airman. "Don't say that!" He opened his mouth to say more, then faltered as a look of shame passed over his now-horrified features. Before Kinchloe and Newkirk could pull him away he let go and stepped back.

"Easy, Louie," Newkirk said reassuringly before he laid a hand on the smaller man's shoulder. "I'm sure Carter didn't mean anything by it." He glanced over at the American airman. "Isn't that right?"

Carter, still a bit shaken, merely nodded. "Sorry, LeBeau," he lamely offered. "I didn't mean anything..." The Frenchman waved his hand.

"I am the one who should apologize, Carter," LeBeau said morosely even as his body sagged down onto a nearby bench. "I just..." His voice trailed off, then reappeared. "Colonel Hogan is a good man," he explained. "A strong man." He looked at his friends. "What could scare him that much?"

Silence reigned for a moment before Newkirk's voice broke the stillness. "I think," his somber Cockney voice began, "that he saw something that no mortal eyes should ever see." With that, he left the tunnel and the puzzled looks of the other enlisted men.

"What does that mean?" LeBeau asked. Kinch shrugged, then changed the subject.

"It's been a long night. For everybody," he said reasonably before a different tone crept into his voice. "If we were back home I'd jump the wire and head into town." A Cheshire Cat grin suddenly appeared on his dark face as he tried to lighten the mood. "You know, find a nice dame, take her into town for some fun..."

"Gee, that'd be fun right now!" Carter said cheerfully, the past quickly forgotten. "There's nothing better than sharing a milkshake with a nice girl."

LeBeau rolled his eyes in mock disgust. "You Americans," he groaned, making a small 'pppft' sound with his lips. "You take her out to dinner. Then, a little dancing..."

"...along with some nice music," Kinchloe finished. "Not to mention..." He frowned, then held up his hand.

It was then that the other men heard it. The sounds of soft band music drifted from the other end of the large room. The radio, its tubes and dials glowing, was on. Kinch stared at it in confusion.

_But I turned it off,_ he thought. _How...?_

Just then the station changed to a Glenn Miller tune. _String of Pearls._ The men warily approached the malfunctioning instrument.

"Why didn't we hear the radio before?" LeBeau asked, his eyes fixed on the radio.

"Here's a better question," Kinch said, his voice low. "How is it running if the power's off?" All of the men glanced at a nearby post. Sure enough, the main power switch for the radio was in the off position.

"You don't think..." LeBeau started to say, then gulped. "You don't think someone's trying to send us a message, do you?"

At once, the music disappeared. Before the men's stunned eyes they saw the black bakelite dial twist to a different station. This time the musical chorus of the Andrews Sisters filled the tunnel:

_"You've got to Ac-Cent-Tchu-Ate The Positive, E-lim-in-ate the negative..."_

"This...this is a joke, right?" Carter asked, his voice now slightly sick.

Suddenly, the song changed once more. A flurry of voices and static from bypassed stations flew past them before the black disc went still once more. This time, it was Louis Armstrong's rich tones:

_"No one to talk with/All by myself/No one to walk with/But I'm happy on the shelf..._

_"Ain't misbehavin'..."_

"What the hell is this?" Kinchloe openly wondered, his eyes locked on the impossible sight. Even as he said the words the dial turned again. This time, however, only the faint sounds of hissing static greeted their ears.

"Maybe it was just the radio," Carter offered weakly, though he sounded like he didn't believe it. "It could have just broken by itself. Right?"

"Or maybe," a woman's voice replied, her sultry tones pulsing through the speakers, "it was just me."

At that very moment the radio clicked off. The glowing light of the dial had barely faded when the startled eyes of the men looked at each other.

"Explain that, Kinch!" LeBeau's now frightened voice snapped.

"Um..." Try as he might, the black radioman couldn't think. Consequently, he blurted the first thing that popped into his head. "...sunspots?"

A light feminine laughter drifted to the men from one of the nearby tunnels. Suddenly, one of the oil lamps in a side tunnel went out. Like dominoes, two more lamps extinguished themselves before a stream of cold air blasted into the main tunnel.

The men, their hearts pounding, immediately ran towards the ladder. LeBeau's body almost flew up the ladder; Kinch was only moments behind him. Carter, last to go, put his hands on the wooden slats...

...and stopped. Instead, he turned around to the deathly silent room..

And smiled.

"That was a good joke, ma'am," he said cheerfully to the unseen visitor. "Have a good night." With that he calmly pulled himself up the ladder. As he did, he missed the whisper that floated on the still air.

"Anytime..."

* * *

><p><em>In the darkness, Colonel Hogan dreamed.<em>

_He was running through the graveyard and past shadowy shapes that loomed out of the moonlit night. At that moment a bluish specter appeared in his path and glared daggers at his frightened body._

I'm dead, _she hissed, pointing an accusatory finger._ Because of you...

_Suddenly, the ground opened up beneath his feet. Orange light, bright and terrifying, filled his vision as he tumbled over the lip of the chasm and towards the lake of fire..._

"Are you that tired, darling?"

Startled, Hogan opened his eyes.

A beautiful woman, her body swaying to soft dance music, filled his field of view. The dance floor behind her was filled with couples lost to their own personal beat. He blinked, then wondered what he had been thinking about. In the end he gave up and shrugged.

"No," he replied "I guess I was just lost in thought." The Colonel smiled warmly at his date. Oddly, for some reason he couldn't remember her name. A nagging memory, just out of reach, tugged at his mind.

_Something important..._

"I hope you were thinking about me?" she teased. The Colonel chuckled.

"I'd be a poor date if I didn't," he countered, savoring the scent of her sweet perfume.

"So true," she replied. "That was a really nice thing you did tonight."

A small frown crossed the officer's face at the woman's words. He had no idea what she was talking about. For that matter - and this frightened him even more - he couldn't recall how he had arrived at the dance hall. Or anything about that night, including his date.

At all.

"It was wonderful," she continued to the Colonel's puzzlement. Oddly, the lights in the dance hall seemed to darken a bit; he put it off to his imagination. "You helped them to move on." A sad, almost wistful look entered her eyes as they touched his. "But for you, it will never be over."

Hogan, still bewildered, raised a curious eyebrow. "What does that mean?" he asked. Even as he spoke the lights dimmed further and shrouded the area around them in darkness. The American, still concentrating on his date's earlier words, barely noticed.

"Sssh," she said, pulling his body into hers. "It will be all right," she comforted. "I'm sorry..."

* * *

><p>"...so sorry," the blue-tinged specter finished. "So very sorry."<p>

Erika Baum lightly traced her ghostly finger down Colonel Hogan's sleeping face. The expression, once filled with terror at the earlier nightmare, was now filled with peace.

_As it should be._

A tremorous, if unheard, sigh echoed against the walls of the Colonel's quarters as she considered the injustice of life. Evil had no conscience to speak of; it did what it did without regret. Conversely, the good souls that fought the darkness were damned to suffer nightmares.

Forever.

For the Colonel - at least, in his dreams - it would never be over. She would do what she could to alleviate his pain. And then...

"We'll meet again, Colonel," she promised, more to herself than anything else. "One day..."

With that, the ghost vanished. Darkness reclaimed the small room as Colonel Hogan turned in his sleep...

...and smiled.

_[fin/ende]_


End file.
